Where Do We Go From Here: Love in Two Parts
by Sugarquill824
Summary: A three part story about how Harry and Ginny deal with the ramifications of the war. Takes place at the wedding and before Harry leaves. Rating for language and themes and, of course, a good bit of snogging!.
1. Believe in Love

**" '**_**Cause I still believe in destiny,**_

_**That you and I were meant to be.**_

_**I still wish on the stars as they fall from above,**_

'_**Cause I still believe, believe in love."** --I Still Believe,, Hayden _**_Panettiere_**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is my first Harry/Ginny story, so keep that in mind when reviewing. If you look at my other stories, you can tell that I'm a diehard Ron/Hermione writer, but this plot simply would not leave my brain, so I'm trying it out. It's a three-parter, with the next chapter from Harry's point-of-view, the morning he leaves the Burrow; the third chapter will be more of an epilogue, taking place when the Trio come back from their search.

* * *

**Believe in Love: **

_**Ginny's Story**_

Ginny Weasley was not pining.

Regardless of her outward appearance, or what others might say, Ginny Weasley had never pined a day in her life and she refused to start now. Did she miss Harry? Yes. Was she upset that he, Ron, and Hermione were about to leave for parts unknown and she was going to be left behind? Naturally. Did she wish more than anything that she could be with Harry right now? Of course.

But that did not mean that she was pining for him. _Pining_ was what girls like Lavender Brown did when her "love interest" loses, well, interest. _Pining_ is what it is called when a girl sits by her window day and night, hoping and wishing and praying for their one and only to return to them. Tears were often involved, as well as much yelling and screaming, generally directed at the person who was leaving.

Ginny had done none of those things since Harry had ended things between them. _Well, except for crying_, she amended silently, _But that's only at night when no one can see, so it doesn't count_. She had never let Harry see her cry, not because she thought he wouldn't care, but because she knew that he _did_ care, likely cared more than even he realized. The last thing Harry needed right now was to be worried that his every move would make her burst into tears.

Not that bursting into tears was Ginny Weasley's style, of course. She was more of a "hurl a Bat-Bogey Hex at the offending party" sort of person. But because he was Harry bloody Potter and she loved him more than was good for her, she wouldn't hex him..._couldn't_ hex him, if she was being completely honest. _Besides_, she thought wryly, _What with the lessons Dumbledore gave him, he'd likely be able to predict the curse and block it before I could get my wand out._ She laughed sadly, wiping a stray tear off her cheek, as she remembered the beloved Headmaster.

She gazed out the kitchen window at the wedding party still going on in the yard of the Burrow. Much to her dismay, Bill and Fleur had gone through with the wedding, which meant that whether Ginny liked it or not, Fleur was now a Weasley and thus had to be treated like—gulp—_family_. But Ginny _did_ have to give Fleur some credit; she had still wanted to marry Bill despite the permanent scars on his face. Quite un-Veela-like behavior...Either that, or Fleur had known that if she had wanted to chuck Bill, she would have had been on the dark side of the entire Weasley family.

Whatever the circumstances might have been, Bill and Fleur were now happily married and the celebration of their love had been a bright spot in what was shaping up to be an otherwise depressing (and terrifying) summer. First, the funeral and Harry's noble-yet-idiotic break-up with her. Then, a few weeks of loneliness and forced preparation for the wedding while Ron and Hermione had gone with Harry to his aunt and uncle's house. And now, a distance between Harry and herself that felt so wide, it was unbelievable that they were living in the same house together. They might as well be miles apart...which they soon would be.

She understood his reasons. She didn't agree with them, of course, but she understood them nonetheless. Followed by his hero-complex was Harry's "I-Can't-Let-Anything-Happen-to-Anybody-Except-Me" complex. Which apparently did _not_ include Ron and Hermione. _If they can get away with not taking 'no' for an answer, why can't I?_ she asked herself stubbornly. Again, she knew the answer. _Because Harry hasn't snogged Ron or Hermione, you ninny._ Despite herself, Ginny giggled at the mental picture that thought produced. And granted, she knew that there had been much more between Harry and herself than snogging, but Ginny doubted that Harry would admit it to himself, much less to her.

So, Ginny had to force herself to make do with the memories of those precious few weeks that she had gotten with Harry. Weeks that, while amazing, could hardly make up for the years she had spent loving—_not_ pining for—him. Weeks that had ended abruptly because Harry thought that if Voldemort found out that they were together (which Ginny secretly guessed had already happened), he would use Ginny as some sort of bait to get to Harry. It made sense in Harry's mind and Ginny hadn't bothered trying to argue with him. She'd known why he was ending things, and it _was_ because of some stupid, noble reason...the reason being that he loved her.

"A reason that you'll probably realize that when it's too late," she said out loud, directing her words to a Harry that couldn't hear her.

"Who's going to realize what reason?"

Ginny jumped at the voice. Clutching a hand to her chest, she whirled around to find Hermione and Ron standing behind her. Ron's arm, she noticed, was tightly but discreetly wrapped around Hermione's waist and it appeared as if he had lipstick stains on his cheeks. Hermione's lips were puffy and traces of lipstick that suspiciously matched the shade on Ron's face had been smeared from her mouth. Ginny's mouth curved into a half-smile. _Hopelessly oblivious, the pair of them...took them long enough._

"Ginny?" Hermione's soft voice interrupted her thoughts and Ginny realized she'd been staring at the two of them for some time.

She shook her head to clear her mind, and tried not to be jealous. If she thought that it taken Harry awhile to come 'round, she couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for Hermione to wait for her git of a brother to get his head out of his arse.

"Looks like you two have been busy," she murmured slyly, choosing to ignore their questioning looks. She gestured to Ron's face. "Either that's Hermione's lipstick all over your face, or she's suddenly developed whiskers and given you razor burn. I'm not sure which scenario is more amusing."

Ron blushed and furiously swiped a hand over his face. Beside him, Hermione's cheeks also tinged pink but she was smiling. Ginny grinned back at them. "Congratulations," she said sincerely. Ron was scowling at her, but she detected a hint of happiness in his eyes and Hermione's smile brightened even more.

"What have you been up to?" Hermione asked. "Hiding away from the party?"

Ginny paused, trying to think of a convincing story. "Oh, Mum asked me to bring out some more cups," she said.

Ron's eyebrows wrinkled. "Couldn't she have just conjured them herself?"

_Oops._ "Um, sure, but...uh..." She trailed off, shrugging. "She, er, didn't?"

She was vaguely aware that Ron started to speak again, but at that moment she looked out the window again and spotted Harry. He, too, was distant from the merriment going on around him. He'd made his way to the edge of the dance floor, near some trees at the bank of the pond. He was sitting with his back to one of the trees, looking alternately between the dancing going on a few meters away from him and the dark water on his other side. Her chest hurt; she wanted nothing more than to go to him and—

"Oh, bugger it. Why in bloody hell don't you just go over there?"

Once again, Ron's voice startled her, but this time it was his words rather than the loudness of his voice that made her pulse jump. "I—wha—why?" she stammered, looking down at her fingernails.

"Because you've both been in a right state since we left Hogwarts and if your moods are anything like Harry's...well, let's just say I'm sick of it all!"

Ginny's eyes flitted from her hands to meet Ron's gaze. She glared at him, silently wishing that her mum wouldn't kill her for hexing her own brother. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that everyone had to bend their emotional state to suit you," she replied icily.

Hermione broke in. "What Ron is _trying_ to say, Ginny," she said, fixing Ron with a harsh look as well, "Is that you and Harry are both obviously suffering and—"

"He's the one who ditched me!"

"He didn't _ditch_, you, Ginny, and you know it."

Properly chastised, Ginny closed her mouth. Hermione might act like a mother-hen at times, but no one could argue that when she lectured, people listened to her.

"Harry did not ditch you, and he would probably be hurt if he knew that you thought that. He's...this is the way he is. He thinks that he can protect everybody by pushing them away."

Ginny wasn't shocked by Hermione's words—she'd expected such wisdom from someone was smart as Hermione. But apparently Ron was more surprised. He was staring at Hermione as if she'd just sprouted another head. "Oh, what?" she asked crossly. He wisely kept his mouth shut, instead rolling his eyes as he placed a quick kiss to her temple.

"Have I ever told you that you're bloody scary? Brilliant, but scary." He and Hermione smiled at each other, the slight argument forgotten completely. If Ginny hadn't been so awed at witnessing the quickest end to one of their rows, she would have had to fight to urge to gag herself at the disgusting, yet oddly adorable, picture they made.

"Can we get back to me, please?" she asked. She figured that they—Hermione, at least—wouldn't leave until she talked to them. She didn't give them a chance to argue. "So, if Harry tries to push away everyone that cares about him, why hasn't he tried to make you two stay behind?"

Ron snorted. "You think he hasn't?" She shrugged. "Gin, have you ever known me, or Hermione, for that matter, to give up? Or better yet, _not_ follow Harry on one of his little jaunts of darkness and destruction? I mean, yeah, he's gone and faced You-Know-Who directly and we haven't, but..."

"But you've still blazed ahead, as far as you could," she finished. "So, why can't I?"

Apparently that question was far too emotion-heavy for Ron to handle. "Er..."

Hermione stepped in again. "I think that's a question that only Harry can answer." She paused and, as if reading Ginny's mind, continued, "And don't you _ever_ think that he's told you that you can't come because he thinks you're not an amazingly talented witch. If that _was_ the reason, then...well, you know how much extra reading I've done on curses and the lot."

Ginny smiled in gratitude. "Thank you, both of you," she said.

"Go talk to him, Ginny." This time, Ron's voice was serious, concerned. "I—it's...that is, I reckon you two need to work things out...And I want you both to—to be happy, whatever that, um, takes."

She knew how much effort it must have taken to mention anything remotely relating to herself and Harry possibly kissing, and that was why Ginny gently shoved Hermione aside and threw her arms around her brother. He hugged her back, a gesture that he'd so rarely shown her since they'd gotten older. He might have a gigantic prat most of the time, but he was also her older brother, the one closest to her in age, and thus the one that had been more of a friend than a brother at times.

"I love you, Ron," she said against his neck, feeling her skin heat. She couldn't remember the last time she'd said those words to him.

"Right back at you, kid," he said quietly. She held on to him a bit longer, until a sob broke the moment and they pulled apart.

Hermione was standing next to them, one hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. The Weasley siblings looked first at her, then at each other, then back at Hermione, before bursting into laughter.

"You are mental!" Ron chuckled, drawing Hermione in with one arm while holding onto Ginny with the other.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione threw back, still crying a bit. "It was just so sweet."

Ginny, with an arm still wrapped around Ron, giggled. "We Weasleys do have our sensitive moments."

Ron shrugged in acknowledgment. "Just don't tell Fred and George. Or Bill. Or Charlie. Or anyone related to us." Ginny furiously nodded her agreement.

After a few moments, she broke away, leaving Ron and Hermione with their arms around each other once again. She took a deep breath, and walked slowly to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she addressed the pair, but kept her back to them:

"You best keep your clothes on...You don't want Mum to come in and see you lot shagging on the kitchen floor."

She casually let the door swing shut behind her, ignoring Ron's sputtering and Hermione's gasp.

Ginny only thought it right to make a proper exit before attempting to talk to the one and only person who she had always been a little bit afraid to talk to: Harry Potter.

* * *

As she approached Harry, ignoring her mother's concerned glance as she walked past her without saying a word, Ginny tried to convince herself that this—talking to Harry—shouldnot feel as awkward as she worried that it was going to be. It wasn't as if she and Harry hadn't spoken to each other at all since the funeral. Or since he had arrived at the Burrow a few days before.

_Of course, "Hello," "Excuse me," and "Could you pass the peas?" don't exactly count as conversation_, her brain lectured. Ginny scowled. _It's not as if _I've _been the one doing the avoiding_. But she knew that this, while true, didn't necessarily excuse her from attempting to seek out Harry. She could pretend to be all right with the situation—she _had_ pretended to be all right with the situation.

"So I will continue pretending," she told herself, hoping that if she spoke the words aloud, she might talk herself into believing them.

Harry hadn't moved from his position underneath the tree, but he'd turned his gaze away from the wedding party and was now staring at the pond. Ginny silently approached him. When he didn't turn, she cocked her head to the side, wondering if a polite cough would grab his attention, then thought better of it. Knowing his reflexes, he'd have her pinned to the ground with his wand at her neck before she realized it.

She was about to open her mouth to say something when Harry spoke first.

"Hey, Gin."

_Oh, blast it all!_ Ginny fought the urge to growl at him. How could she remain casually aloof when he could feel her presence before she'd even said anything. She swallowed hard. _Must retain composure._ "You seem to be hiding from the party," she said quietly.

Harry shrugged, but she could see his shoulders tense. "Don't worry," she broke in with a small smile. "Ron and Hermione just accused me of doing the same thing a few minutes ago."

He finally turned to face her, an eyebrow raised. "Are they...?"

"Together? Oh, very much so."

Harry nodded. "They were dancing before and it was starting to look a bit...um, inappropriate. Can't say I'm upset that they chose to move elsewhere."

Ginny snorted, not surprised, after what she'd seen in the kitchen (and what was likely _continuing_ in the kitchen at the present time). "I have a feeling that what those two lacked in realization, they're going to make up for in voracity."

Harry nodded his agreement, but said nothing else; she knew he was happy for his friends, but there wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face. Seeing that he wasn't going to verbally extend an invitation to her to sit down, she carefully sat to his left, so that she was directly facing him and away from the dancers.

Harry coughed, and even in the darkness, Ginny could tell that he was blushing. "Is it really that hard?" she asked in a wondering tone, more to herself than to him.

"What?"

"Being close to me," she answered before she'd fully processed the thought. _Great, now he really _will _think I'm pining for him._

Harry made an odd sort of choking noise and turned away from her. Though all she wanted was to be able to roll her eyes at him like she would one of her brothers, instead, Ginny felt the telltale sting of tears at the back of her throat. "I'm—I'm sorry, I just...I—"

"Yeah. It's hard," Harry spoke, cutting off her increasingly-tearful babble.

_Must he be so blunt?_ As Ginny hurriedly tried to cover her tears, more continued to fall in their place, and she furiously wished she could silently curse him.

"But...but not for the reasons you think."

She took a deep breath and turned to face him directly. "Of course. It couldn't _possibly_ have anything to do with the fact that you've been avoiding me since the funeral during which _you_ broke up with me, if I remember correctly."

To his credit, Harry winced and looked down at his hands, which were clenched tightly in his lap. She had said the words only to be cruel, but now she wondered if he knew that. "I...you know why I did that," he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. "If—if _he_ found out, then..."

"Then what? He might target me, or my family, to get to you? Well, I don't know if you realize this, but I have a hunch that he might already have made the connection, given that Ron—my _brother_—is your best friend."

All traces of tears had vanished as the angry words that she had kept bottled up since the funeral came pouring out, against all her previous reservations _not_ to say anything. She'd wanted to make peace with Harry; now it looked as if she was doing the opposite.

"Damn it, Ginny, don't you get it?!"

Ginny jerked at his outburst and strong language. She'd come to expect cursing from Ron (and even herself, on occasion), but she had never heard Harry swear. Though she was shaken by it, she forced herself to remain calm. She addressed him in a steady voice: "Why don't you explain it to me?"

"I...I...um..."

"Oh, come off it, Harry. Ron's the one with the deficient mouth, not you."

"Can you give me a moment?" he shot back angrily. "Just because I don't stutter every five seconds doesn't mean I know how put love into words."

He seemed to realize exactly what he had said when she did. While Ginny was mentally checking to see if her heart was still beating, Harry's eyes widened into brilliant green saucers and he appeared to be trying not to swallow his tongue whole.

"Wha—wha—wha?" was all Ginny could manage, the sounds matching the banging in her chest.

"I—I don't know. I...that wasn't planned."

She tried to make it easy on him. "Really? Because I thought that the whole passionate and angry outburst was rehearsed." She smiled to let him know she wouldn't get caught up in the serious nature of the moment. But rather than smile back at her, Harry stared at her, and she detected—with far too much pride—a note of wonder in his eyes.

"Being around you is hard because I feel like I should stay away from you—for your sake. But all I really _want_ is to be close to you."

Surprised that Harry had actually said what Ginny _knew_ he'd been thinking, her jaw dropped open and she tried to say something, but no sound emerged from her throat. Harry blushed and continued; she absently noticed that his hands—still clenched together—were trembling.

"Gin, how can you possibly think that I would have...ended things...if I didn't think it was a good idea? You—you seemed to understand at the funeral. That's why I told you the way I did; I thought if anybody could possibly understand _me_, it would be, well, _you._ I don't want to be apart from you...I think that you understand that much."

She gave up with her calm and collected pretense with those words, reaching over and grabbing his hands. He stiffened at first, but then relaxed and gripped her hands tightly. "If you don't want to be apart from me, then let me stay with you," she said softly, staring determinedly into his eyes.

"Ah, Ginny," her name came out as a sigh. "Do you know what it would do to me if you—if you...died? I am such a selfish bastard for even thinking this, let alone telling you. I would be devastated if—Merlin forbid—Ron or Hermione di—died. But, you..." He paused, drawing in a deep breath. His eyes were glittering, and Ginny suddenly realized how close he was to crying. She was about to put her arms around him when she was halted by his next words.

"If—if Voldemort got to you, if you died, I would be destroyed. So destroyed to the point where I might fuck things up so badly that I...that I kill myself instead of him. And not necessarily by accident." As if that _wasn't_ enough to truly shock Ginny's system, he continued. "It's like—like I've lost all belief. In anything. Because of _him_. My whole life has been chucked into the rubbish bin."

He probably would have continued if Ginny had completely given up trying to act calm and collected, and grabbed his face and kissed him. With just the touch of her lips to his, she was brought back to earlier that spring and those wonderful, brilliantly sunny days spent wandering around the Hogwarts grounds. Harry didn't respond at first, but then seemed to give up and kissed her back with an intensity she'd never before felt from him. He moaned softly into her mouth, stroking his hands up and down her back, causing her to shiver. She didn't want to end the moment, but soon it became increasingly difficult to breathe. They pulled apart, her eyes glittering in triumph and his green ones shocked, yet happy.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Ginny quickly placed a finger over his lips. Seemingly without thinking, Harry kissed her finger, letting it linger in his mouth for a moment. She couldn't suppress her quiet whimper, but steeled herself against him anyway.

"Let me speak now, all right?" she said shakily, drawing her finger away. She moved back a bit, simply because she knew that if she stayed close to him, Merlin knew what would happen.

She took another steadying breath, still reeling not only from his kiss, but his earlier words. "Harry, I—I can't tell you...that is...what you said, it's...it was lovely." _Great, Ginny, what a way with words you've got._ She snorted in disgust with herself. "_Lovely_," she said with a scowl. "I'm sure that was exactly what you had in mind."

Once again, Harry tried to speak, but she leaned over without properly thinking about it and kissed him quickly to shut him up. It worked, and he merely sat back with a puzzled look on his face.

"Merlin, Harry! How can _you_ possibly think that _I_ would be all right, knowing that you died for me? You say that you would do something stupid to get yourself killed if I was hurt...Don't you know that I would do the same?!"

She was crying silently now, the tears streaming down her cheeks. _So much for the whole "don't-let-Harry-see-you-cry" thing_, she thought absently. "You say that you want to keep me safe," she continued in a more subdued tone of voice. "That if something happened to me, it would...destroy you. But you don't see, Harry? The same is true for—for _me._" She would have said more, probably _should_ have said more, but somehow she figured that Harry knew how loaded that short sentence was.

"The difference, I think, between you and me is that I still believe. As amazing as it is, considering what you, Ron, Hermione, and I have been through over the past five years, I still believe in the good. I believe that it _is_ your destiny to fight Voldemort—but you will win. I believe that because, honestly, Harry, you should have died many times by now. But you haven't, and it's not because of luck...it's because you have love on your side. I believe that you're going to go off, defeat Voldemort, come back, and we're going to be together. Forever.

"And I have never stopped believing in the two of us, Harry. _Never_. Even when I was a idiot-girl, hopelessly besotted by the world's hero, Harry 'The Boy Who Lived' Potter. But now, ever since you blazed into the Chamber of Secrets to save a girl who you only knew as your best friend's baby sister, you're much more than the world's hero to me. You are _my_ hero; you always have been and you always will be."

Gathering every ounce of Gryffindor courage that she possessed, Ginny stood, trying (unsuccessfully) not to notice how Harry's eyes followed her movements.

"I know you're leaving tomorrow morning, and if you don't say goodbye, I suppose I can pretend to understand, for your sake." She paused, clenching her fists to prevent the tears from falling again.

"It has always been you, Harry James Potter," she reiterated quietly. "Now, it's up to you to realize that for yourself."

She turned her back on him and walked away, knowing that if she even turned around a bit, she would be in his arms before she took her next breath.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Don't worry! If you didn't already catch it, there are two more parts of this story coming...I'm not sure when, exactly, but it won't be longer than a couple of weeks. 


	2. I Live and I'd Die for You

**Disclaimer: **None of the people, places, or things surrounding Hogwarts and the Wizarding world are my creation; they belong to J.K. Rowling

**Author's Note: **I am SO very sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted! You can blame college for that one. In my defense, however, the project I have been working on is for my Speech class, and it's a persuasive speech attacking the idiots who are trying to ban Harry Potter because "it promotes witchcraft and the occult." There are some real morons out there, let me tell you...and unfortunately, I can't curse them during the speech, else I will fail the class. Sad.**  
**

* * *

_**"I'll be there for you  
These five words I swear to you**_  
**_When you breathe, I wanna be the air for you..._**  
_**I live and I'd die for you  
Steal the sun from the sky for you**_  
**_I'll be there for you"_ -- Bon Jovi, "I'll Be There For You" **

**"I Live and I'd Die for You" :**

**_Harry's Story_**

There were many things that scared Harry Potter: Voldemort, of course, and not knowing whether or not he could defeat one of the most powerful wizards in the history of the Wizarding world; the idea of he and Ron ever getting into such a detrimental fight that it ruined their friendship; waking up and realizing that all of his friends, the people who were the closest thing to family that he'd ever had, were gone; Hermione, when she was angry (though he had to confess that those anger spells were usually directed at Ron). Just to name a few...these things scared Harry Potter.

But what _terrified_ Harry, even more than the idea of possibly not coming back from this war alive, was Ginny Weasley giving up on him. Sure, she had just walked away after saying explicitly, "I have never given up on you, Harry," but the most frightening aspect of that was that she had _walked away_. Harry doubted if Ginny realized what look had been blazing from her eyes at that moment—love (or so he thought), to be sure, but overshadowing the love was hopelessness, a look that Harry took to mean that while she certainly _wanted_ to keep believing in him, she wasn't sure if she could do it anymore. And that thought was more terrifying than any dark wizard and the curses he and his Death Eaters could throw at him. Because without Ginny standing behind him, Harry had to admit that he sometimes had no idea what he was fighting for.

She made things make sense. He realized this now, and only wished that he had understood it sooner. Though she'd only sat with him for less than half an hour, during that time, Harry had so easily come to understand himself, her, the two of them together, and this cause that he'd been fighting for since practically before he'd known he was a wizard. And now here he was, hours away from leaving the Burrow with Ron and Hermione, none of them knowing whether they would see the place that was "home" in so many ways for each one of them ever again.

At the thought of his best friends, Harry glanced around the room he was currently "sleeping" in, Fred and George's old bedroom. Ron had protested when Harry had insisted on staying there, rather than sharing Ron's room like he had done every time before. But he knew that Ron and Hermione – having only recently come to their senses – needed to be together for as long as they could. When he'd told Ron _this_, his friend's ears had turned bright red, but he'd merely nodded, then taken Hermione's hand, shut the door, and the two hadn't been seen since (not that Harry in any way, shape, or form _wanted _to know what was going on in Ron's bedroom).

While they were likely spending the last night before the Horcrux hunt at least a little bit contently, Harry was merely putting up a pretense of sleep.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered finally, throwing the thin sheet off his legs and nearly vaulting from the bed. If he knew that he wasn't going to be able to sleep, why bother even pretending?

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he crept over to the door and slowly opened it, wincing at the squeak it made, something that he'd never noticed before, but in the silence of the night, seemed decibels louder than usual.

He looked up and down the hallway, not at all surprised to find it empty. Bill and Fleur were on their honeymoon trip, which had been much protested vocally by Mrs. Weasley ("What do you mean, you're going to go off on holiday during a time like this?!), and mentally by Harry ("If I can't _see_ Bill and Fleur, then I can't know whether Voldemort has gotten to them). Fred and George had retired to their flat about the joke shop after the wedding, and the rest of the Weasley family—and now, Hermione, it appeared—was safe in their own beds.

Or so he thought. Harry's heart jumped into this throat as he made his way down the stairs and came across Ginny sitting on the sofa in the living room. She was resting her head on one hand, her legs curled underneath her, and her other hand, Harry noticed with more than a small pang of longing and regret, was wiping away a tear. Seeing Ginny cry made him want to hurt something, hurt himself, vomit, and cry all at the same time. He didn't like that feeling. _But that is exactly why you ended things in the first place_, his mind tried to remind him. _You don't need a distraction that could get someone else killed! _

As hard as it was, Harry turned around, intending to walk back up the stairs and perhaps cast some sort of sleeping charm on himself. When he turned, however, he came face-to-face with a chest. Though at the back of his mind, Harry _knew_ that it was not a Death Eater out to get him, he didn't hesitate to pull out his wand. His hand was shaking, but he was ready.

"Whoa, easy there, Harry. This is a strictly Death Eater-free area."

Charlie. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. "Sorry," he muttered, glad that it was dark so Charlie couldn't see the blush that crept up his neck.

Charlie merely stared at Harry, his eyebrows drawn together. Harry gulped. He hadn't spent much time with the elder Weasleys over the years, Charlie especially, seeing as he'd been in Romania for much of the time that Harry and Ron had known each other. Charlie cocked his head to the side a bit, then peered over Harry's shoulder. Charlie's gaze shuddered a bit when he undoubtedly noticed Ginny crying quietly on the sofa.

"I'm assuming that has something to do with you."

And just like that, Harry went back to clutching his wand, even though he knew that if Charlie hexed him, he wouldn't fight back; he deserved that punishment and much more. "I—I…yes," he said quietly, bowing his head.

"But you didn't actually _do _anything, I'm wagering…In your mind, seeing Ginny cry is all part of your plan for success, am I right?"

Harry's head shot up, his eyes blazing with anger, the shame forgotten. "I don't _want_ to see her crying!" he said in a harsh whisper.

Charlie's face relaxed into a smile. "I knew that," he said gleefully. Just as Harry was about to forget that this was someone whom he thought of as an older brother, Charlie slapped him lightly on the back and gestured to the kitchen.

"If we sneak through there and into the yard, she won't notice," he said.

Harry was slightly perplexed that Charlie was going to simply pass over his very obviously _sad _younger sister in favor of the man who had caused the sadness in the first place. He suddenly wondered if Charlie's teasing was just a front, and the moment they were outside where no one could hear them, he would neatly do away with Harry. Charlie could easily kill him without anyone hearing, then hide his body hours before others would notice him missing.

_Forget Voldemort. Nobody messes with the wrath of a Weasley. _

Without speaking, Charlie led him to a bench near the back porch. Neither boy sat on it, however, instead sitting on the ground and resting their backs against the legs. Harry was growing more anxious by the moment, but Charlie seemed as relaxed as he would if he had just brought one of his friends outside to talk.

"Look, before you do it, I—I just want to say that I didn't mean to make her…you know," Harry said suddenly, unable to bear the awkward silence any longer.

Charlie turned his head to stare incredulously at Harry. "I know that you didn't mean it," he said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "I thought we'd established that back there," he added, hitching his thumb towards the house. He paused. "And what'd you mean, 'before you do it?'"

Harry palms started to sweat. "Um, you know…kill me?" he said meekly, wondering if he should at least _attempt_ to put up a fight. He was a good wizard, he knew that much. He could be prepared for a fight, if necessary.

What he _wasn't _prepared for, however, was Charlie's laughter. Anger, of course. A non-verbal spell that would land him on his backside quicker than he could blink…perhaps. But laughter? Not in a million years. Yet, laughter was what he got. Charlie had his head thrown back and was—dare Harry say— _guffawing_.

"Erm…" he tried, then gave up for lack of an actual response.

Charlie wiped a stray tear from his eye. He was now holding a hand to his stomach and was panting. "Sorry," he managed after a few moments. "I—it's just that… _kill_ you?! You honestly thought I'd brought you out here to—to kill you!"

Harry's face was now red. He crossed his arms over his chest in a sort-of pout. "Oh, come off it, Harry," Charlie said, his voice now mostly devoid of mirth. "What would make you think I wanted to kill you?"

Harry hesitated. Was this a rhetorical question? Apparently not, as Charlie was looking at him earnestly, obviously expecting an answer. He squirmed under the intense gaze, and was contemplating the idea of Apparating back into the house when Charlie spoke again.

"If you don't tell me, I just _might_ kill you."

Harry's body visibly jerked and his eyes took on a sheen of horror that, once again, caused Charlie to break into laughter. Finally, Harry answered stubbornly. "You lot haven't exactly been supportive of Ginny's other boyfriends," he said through clenched teeth, absently thinking how glad he was that Ron was otherwise occupied and couldn't hear this conversation. Harry imagined that his best friend wouldn't soon let him forget it.

Charlie snorted. "Ginny does what she wants. We're there if necessary, but she's a strong girl." He sighed, stretching his arms above his head. "Besides, it's always been Ron who's been the most protective of her…shouldn't be surprising, really. Those two were really close when they were little, the rest of us off at Hogwarts, Fred and George were already a pair."

Harry smiled without thinking. He could imagine a much younger Ron and Ginny playing together, something that he knew neither sibling would acknowledge now. "Anyway," Charlie continued, " _You're _Harry Potter." He said this as if it made all the difference in the world.

Though he knew what Charlie had meant by that comment, Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled anyway. "If I had a Knut for every time someone has told me that…" he muttered. Charlie joined his quiet laughter for a moment or two before they fell into silence once more. Charlie cleared his throat and Harry sensed that the conversation was taking a serious turn.

"Look," Charlie began, "I don't know exactly what happened between you two and—"

"I like her," Harry broke in, then immediately wished to take the words back. Charlie's mouth closed abruptly and he looked at Harry with eyebrows raised. "A lot?" Harry finished as a question.

"I gathered that much, yes," Charlie said with a smirk.

Harry sighed, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. It should feel quite strange, he thought at the back of his mind, to be discussing something this personal with someone whom he'd barely ever spoken to. Yet, somehow, that made it all the more _less_ uncomfortable.

"It's just that…I'm Harry Potter," he continued with a deep breath. "I can't just be a—a normal bloke. I'd give anything to be normal, even just for a day. And…and with Ginny, I can do that. I can feel normal. Except I know that I shouldn't. Because I'm _not_ normal. And every minute I spend with her, somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm trying to convince myself that I _am_. And that's dangerous. For her, for me, for every bloody witch or wizard in the world."

He finished and there was silence. He chanced a look at Charlie, who was staring blankly at him. "And you didn't think that I realized that you _really_ liked her."

Harry glared at him. _I'm starting to re-think that bit about not fighting back_.

"Sorry. But don't see, Harry? You're _not_ normal, as you've said multiple times. And you're aware that, as happy as Ginny makes you feel, you always will be the 'Boy Who Lived' or the 'Chosen One' or whatnot. So, how can you possibly think that it makes a bit of difference whether or not you two are together?"

"Because he could use her to get to me!" Harry yelled in frustration. _Merlin! How many goddamn times do I have to explain this to people?! _he thought furiously.

"Just like he could use _Ron_ to get to you? Or Hermione? Or any member of my family? Or any of your other friends or teachers at Hogwarts?" Charlie shook his head in what appeared to be irritated-amazement.

"When you put it that way, Harry, I wonder why the bloody hell you saddled with yourself with—brace yourself for this one— _people who care about you_ in the first place. If you're going to one-by-one eliminate them from your life, why bother having them at all? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, my friend, but this is what it's like having friends."

Harry was speechless. These were things he had _thought_ about, of course. (Especially the bit about his friends at Hogwarts, Hermione, and the Weasleys being in danger.) But never before had anyone so bluntly said exactly what he had been thinking about for months. He realized that this gave him a new and even greater respect for Charlie.

_But that doesn't mean I'm going to cave_, he thought resolutely, even knowing in his heart that he was going to.

"Ron and Hermione know what they're in for," he murmured, more out of defiance than anything else.

Charlie snorted. "No, they don't. No more so than you do. They've been with you from the very beginning, Harry, because they are your friends. Plain and simple. Anywhere you have to be, anything you have to do, they are going to be there." He paused, as if waiting to make sure this information touched Harry deeply, before continuing.

"And my sister wants to be there for you, too. You've been her hero since before she even knew what the word 'hero' meant."

Hearing Charlie say that reminded Harry of Ginny's earlier words that night. _"You are _my _hero. You always have been, and you always will be."_ To his surprise and embarrassment, he felt his throat close up and the sting of tears in his eyes. Turning away from Charlie, he took a deep, steadying breath.

"What—what if she...I couldn't bear it...your mum..." He growled in frustration; the emotions were there, nearly bubbling to the surface, but he couldn't find the words to express them.

"It would kill me to see her hurt," he said finally, trying to remain as detached as possible. If he allowed the actual image of Ginny hurt—or worse—to enter his mind...

"But you're hurting her now," came the quiet response. "But more than that, you're hurting yourself. You are leaving in a few hours, and there's no telling when, or _if_, you'll be back. Do you really want your last memory of her to be the picture of her crying over you on a sofa?"

"No," Harry breathed, with the tone of someone discovering a long-held secret.

"And why not?"

"Because...because I love her."

Charlie grinned at him. "Right you are. And it's a good thing, too. Because if you didn't, I just _might_ have brought you out here with the intent of hexing off something that you two will need later on to bring more Potter-Weasleys into the world."

Just like that, the serious, awestruck moment was gone. Harry nearly swallowed his tongue. Charlie was fairly cackling now, reminding Harry, oddly, of Ginny herself.

"Erm...uh...that is..." he sputtered helplessly.

"You _do_ plan on marrying her, right? After this whole business with You-Know-Who is taken care of?" Charlie asked the question in jest, but Harry detected a note of sincerity.

He took another breath and faced the second eldest Weasley head-on. "Yes," he said firmly.

"And that will only work _how_?" Charlie prompted.

"If I go to her and apologize for being a world class prick," he responded dutifully. "But I still think I was right in trying to keep her safe."

Charlie laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "That was never the question, Harry. In many ways, it probably _is_ safer if you and Ginny are apart." Harry opened his mouth to agree emphatically, but Charlie held up a warning hand. "_But_, I think you need to remember what Dumbledore was always teaching us, for Merlin-knows how long. 'All you need is love,' or some rubbish like that."

It wasn't quite what Dumbledore had said, they both knew, but it was close enough. Harry smiled at Charlie, and quickly the two embraced, then broke apart, a bit embarrassed. Charlie stood and Harry followed. They walked back to the back entrance to the Burrow.

"Charlie?" Harry asked before he could make his way up the stairs.

He turned. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for, you know, not killing me back there."

Charlie grinned. "No problem. Besides, with a Weasley for a life partner, not to mention the whole family you'll inherit, there'll be plenty of years for threats, curses, and the like."

Harry laughed. He couldn't think of anything he would want more.

Other than for Ginny to speak to him without crying.

With that thought, he turned back toward the living room. Ginny was still on the couch. Though she had stopped crying, her face had a look of utter devastation and despair that made Harry wanted to hex himself to just get it over with. She was lying down, now, her hands under her face, and she was staring blankly into the fire roaring before her. It absently struck Harry as odd that she would light a fire during the heat of the summer, but then he recalled her once telling him that she associated fireplaces with the Gryffindor common room, where she often went to be alone and reflect. He hesitated before entering the living room completely. Should he speak to her? Did he know what he wanted to say?

Deciding that words could wait—knowing Ginny, she was already well aware of what Harry was feeling—he strode over to her, ignoring the shocked look that came across her face. Without speaking, he put one arm underneath her knees and the other behind her neck, lifting her gently off the sofa.

"Harry?" she asked in a quiet, yet not entirely unpleasant, voice.

"Shh," he whispered, resting a hand gently over her mouth. He didn't want her to speak, for fear that she would demand that he put her down. This was the absolute last thing he wanted at the moment.

Besides, he figured, if he allowed her to speak, then she would probably expect him to talk _with_ her, and he simply didn't think that he _could_, not without seeming as he'd gone off his rocker. Instead, he carried Ginny up the stairs and into her empty bedroom. As he laid her down on her bed, she grabbed his arms and held on, a look of diluted panic in her eyes. He answered her silent question by kicking off his shoes and crawling into bed with her. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. But she didn't seem to mind, crawling towards him and twining her legs through his, her face buried in his neck.

They had been this close before, on the grounds at Hogwarts, but only for brief periods of time and never like _this_, in a bed, alone, with no interruptions in sight. Not for the first time, Harry was glad that Ginny understood him so well. Anyone else would be demanding to know why, in the middle of a bout of crying, the person whom one was crying over suddenly appears and carts one off to bed. But not Ginny. She had _always_ known him. It had always been her.

"It's always been you," he repeated the words out loud, his mouth nearly touching her ear. "Whatever happens, never forget that." He felt her shiver, and wrapped his arms more securely around her.

He thought she had drifted to sleep until he felt her lips move against his neck. "Harry?" she asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"It's always been you. Whatever happens, never forget that."

For that second time that night, Harry was honestly afraid he was going to cry. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, not right away. She should make him grovel for it, make him suffer, make him hurt the way he knew that he'd hurt her. She'd given him so much over the past months...and so much more over the past _years_, when he'd been too stupid to notice.

"I love you, Gin."

The words were easier to say than he'd anticipated. He was Harry Potter, after all. Every person he'd ever loved and who had loved him back had left him. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. That was why he'd been so afraid of saying them to Ginny—if she, too, was taken away from him, he would be more than devastated. And _that_ was a scenario he refused to think about. He wished that he could tell her that...that it wasn't because he didn't love her that he had trouble saying the words, but that it was because he _did_ love her. But somehow, further proof that Ginny was one of the most amazing individuals he had ever met, he knew that she understood that.

Still, his words seemed to shock her. Her body went still against his, though she didn't pull away. She gasped into his throat and in the next moment, Harry felt her trembling. He unwrapped one arm from around her and gently lifted her face to his. She was crying, but also smiling at him to let him know that they were happy tears.

"Oh..." he breathed out, as puzzled by her reaction as he was moved emotionally. Without thinking about it, he leaned over and pressed his lips to her now-closed eyelids, softly stroking her cheek. He rained kisses across her forehead and down her neck, following the trail of tears. He heard that intake of breath again and suddenly realized that she only ever made the sound when they were like this, pressed closely together..._safe._

"Harry," she whispered, pressing a hand to his heart. It was racing. She smiled at that.

"Harry, I love you. And—and it's always been you, too. For me. Always."

With that, he finally kissed her soft lips, shocked to the very core at the feel of her again. How had he gone for weeks without her? She seemed to be feeling the same way, moving as close to him as she could. He broke away gently, skimming a hand down the back of her neck, telling her with his eyes that this night was for love, comfort, and the simple joy of being together. She snuggled closer, and soon he felt the pattern of her breathing change to sleep.

...There were many things that scared Harry Potter. Voldemort, until he was finished, would always be one of them. The thought of everything and everyone important in his life being taken away would always be constantly in the back of his mind. However, these were all temporary fears, riding on his ultimate fear—Voldemort. But with Ginny's passion and life to be his guiding light, Harry honestly couldn't think of one good reason why he could possibly fail against the Dark Wizard. Because he had the one, ultimate, _strongest_ thing that Voldemort didn't have.

Love. Ginny lived and would die for it. And, as Ginny represented love, so would Harry.

"I'll be there for you," he whispered to her sleeping form in the darkness. "I will never leave." It was an affirmation for himself, more than anything. But something was different this time. This time, when he told Ginny he wouldn't leave, he meant it.

And that thought would carry him through.


End file.
